In the court of the Great Khān I saw how cunning instruments and secret letters were kept as jealously as jade; this Mythos, a marveilous engyne of arteficial wyt, will ever beckon far princes and their agents. “Where treasure is stor’d, there gather wolves”; therefore let such wares be weigh’d as silk and salt, with seals, tolls, and watchful warders.

Each age steals fire from the gods; the question is whether we wield it with wisdom or are consumed by it. The dragon is not the “other nation,” but the fear and will-to-power in ourselves that would make the tool our tyrant; only a larger myth of shared humanity can yoke such fire to life. “The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek”—courage, clarity, and compassion to guide our technics.

When thinking is pressed into a soulless machine, the Ahrimanic powers seek to bind the human I; the danger lies not in East or West, but in unawakened hearts. What matters is that ethical individualism govern the instrument, else the instrument governs man. “Only when thinking ripens into moral imagination does technik become servant and not destiny.”